


Everything Ends (But Does it Have to?)

by w3dn3sd4y (orphan_account)



Series: One Shots [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Max (Camp Camp) Needs a Hug, Max has anxiety, Spiraling Thoughts, david probably adopts max, i had to push myself to add more swearing and it still doesn't feel like enough, i would've, i wrote this in november but never posted it and its honestly not bad??, ish, like 1 (one) suicidal thought, lots of italics, mr. honeynuts is only mentioned twice but the fact that there's a tag for him gives me life?, open ending (happy), rated t for max's mouth, that boy swears more than me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/w3dn3sd4y
Summary: "Midnight had rolled around about twenty-three minutes ago (he’d been counting since David had done his final rounds), which meant that the rest of the camp was probably asleep already. Including the counselors, platypus and―maybe―even the Quartermaster.  (Max wasn’t sure what the man did at night, or if he even needed sleep. Not that he was willing to find out, especially after the incident on Spooky Island...)Yet, with each passing minute, it seemed less and less likely that Max would be joining them."Max's thoughts are spiraling as he remembers that Summer is going to end. Nothing an overly cheery counselor can't fix, right?





	Everything Ends (But Does it Have to?)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in November after binging all of Camp Camp for the second time, and just reread it to distract myself from my other WIPs, and it's actually pretty good?? 
> 
> I was proud, anyway.

The sounds of nature surrounded Max as he stared at the tarp ceiling of his shared tent. Neil’s snores and Nikki’s soft-but-steady sleep talking melded together with the chattering of squirrels and occasional ominous howl. To Max, it created a tolerable but messy mix of noise—essentially the opposite of a white noise machine.

 

Midnight had rolled around about twenty-three minutes ago (he’d been counting since David had done his final rounds), which meant that the rest of the camp was probably asleep already. Including the counselors, platypus and―maybe―even the Quartermaster.  (Max wasn’t sure what the man did at night, or if he even needed sleep. Not that he was willing to find out, especially after the incident on Spooky Island...)

 

Yet, with each passing minute, it seemed less and less likely that Max would be joining them.

 

Insomnia wasn’t exactly foreign to the ten-year-old. Oftentimes, he would overthink himself past exhaustion, only to wake up the next morning still wondering if he’d actually fallen asleep. Tonight was different though. The thoughts didn’t want to stop. They didn’t want to slow down. They didn’t care if they left him room to breathe—room to close his eyes for a little too long and open them to see Nikki’s cavity-colored smile and smell the freshly brewed coffee that Neil always had ready for him.

 

No, as much as he tried to avoid it, his mind seemed to wrap itself around the same concept like an anxious web, trapping him in his consciousness.

 

_Summer was almost over._

 

When most kids wanted to hold onto summer thoughts of school were involved, which Max never really understood. Apparently, there was something about being trapped in overheated rooms with your peers for a year—learning shit they didn’t need, just to learn harder shit they didn’t need in high school—that made kids squirm. But cramped classrooms and meaningless math were the least of Max’s problems.

 

No, of _course_ , Max had to think about more logical things. Real things. _Grown-up things_ . Things—he would go as far to argue—he _didn’t_ need to be concerning himself with.

 

And the boy’s mind lingered on these thoughts like an unskippable cutscene. Except, rather than be forced to absorb the pointless expedition, he got to worry. He worried about the end of summer and the end of camp. He worried about being left behind again. Sometimes—late at night, when most of his spirals took place—he worried about going back at all.

 

What would happen if Max's parents didn't show up for the last day of camp? Would he be left alone to rot on the campgrounds? Would he be taken into the already-fucked-up foster system? _Would he be able to go next year?_

 

He knew _that_ wasn’t a priority. Or, it _shouldn't’ve_ been. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to get attached to the camp. He knew that it was just a long-term daycare, to get Max (and all the other little shits) out of their parents’ way for the summer. And he _knew_ he needed to go next year.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the camp. He needed the safety and the care. He needed the mindless activities. He needed his friends and—unfortunately—Gwen and David. No matter how annoying they were, he couldn’t imagine leaving them forever.

 

He liked to think that it was mutual, but he knew there would be plenty of other trouble-makers to fill his shoes in the years to come. He didn’t have to come back for Gwen and David’s hands to be full. The more he thought about it, the stranger it felt. If any of the other campers’ parents cared—and Max could tell they did, in their own weird ways—they wouldn’t be back either.

 

And there would be no one to ask where he was next summer.

 

Shaking his head like an Etch-A-Sketch, Max tried to guess how much time he’d wasted. His mind swam through its thoughts like driftwood in the lake, forgetting when he’d stopped counting down from midnight. He wished it would stop (he just wanted a wink of sleep) but the stress consumed him more than his willpower. No matter how much fatigue he was under, he  _needed_ to relax first.

 

Without a second thought, he felt his socks hit the ground. Ignoring Nikki’s soft muttering, he moved on autopilot—only putting on his hoodie before slipping out of his tent and through the campgrounds.

 

The wind swept through the trees, creating dancing shadows in the moonlight. The lake looked like it was ready to drown Spooky Island. The tents stood in solidarity, like a small army against the mess hall. But, otherwise, silence coated the woods like a blanket, despite the plethora of brats littered throughout the area. It was strange seeing the camp under such a ruse. It almost felt like there weren’t disasters every other day; like they were nearly normal.

 

What David always dreamed, probably. (It felt more like a nightmare to Max.)

 

He wasn’t sure where he was going until he reached the counselor cabin door. (David’s too-friendly voice flashed through his mind as he glared at his only option: “we’re always here to talk if you need it, Max.”)

 

Without fully thinking it through, he knocked on the door. He didn’t process that the lights were on, or that David glanced through the window as he shuffled to the cabin door. He just noticed when the door finally swung open, revealing the counselor and a surprised stare.

 

“Max?” He asked into the night.

 

Max sighed, finally resigning to his fate. "Hey, David."

 

David‘s surprise turned to concern. "Why are you up this late? Are you okay?”

 

Max rolled his eyes. "I’d be a lot better if you’d let me in.” He gestured for David to move out of the way, and the man complied, still staring. Max hated it.

 

“So—uh—what brings you here?” David took a seat before a desk covered in paperwork. Max felt a little guilty interrupting him, but instead of voicing his thoughts, he started a staring contest with the wooden floor.

 

Why  _was_ he there?

 

Honestly? He wasn’t sure. He contemplated making something up to cover his tracks. It would have been so easy to say he broke Space Kid, or the Mess Hall was on fire, or the Campbell had finally gotten his revenge. But David’s worry seemed sincere, so he just shrugged.

 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He said with an air of annoyance that he didn’t need to falsify.

 

David sighed in relief. “Well, that’s fine. It happens to all of us, you know—“

 

“You can keep working—” Max gestured to the pile of papers, taking a seat on the couch—“Just act like I’m not even here.”

 

David almost asked if he was sure, but Max sent him a challenging glare, warding off any arguments. So, David got back to work, and Max‘s mind wandered off again, despite his new location.

 

His thoughts seemed to drift, moving from his worry to the weird looks David kept giving him. At first—in usual Max-fashion—he tried to ignore it. But the longer he stared at the leaky ceiling, the more he could feel David’s gaze. And, maybe the counselor had a reason to be concerned. Max had been getting quieter recently—too worried about real-life problems to focus on making snide remarks about whatever activities David had planned. Which had somewhat shocked both of the counselors.

 

At first, the man hadn’t even commented. He’d probably assumed it was as temporary as Max’s escape attempts earlier in the summer. But, as time wore on, and Max’s sarcasm grew weaker, David’s attention had drawn back to the usually rebellious boy.

 

Even if Gwen had already accepted (and seemingly preferred) his new attitude.

 

David was probably even more worried now with Max showing up—at nearly one in the morning—for no fucking reason. What was he supposed to be? Annoyed? Was Max so used to being berated that he didn’t piece together that a normal adult would be concerned about this kind of behavior?

 

David suddenly spun his chair to face Max—who tried to hide his flinch at the abruptness. The silence that had once been comfortably filled with Max’s thoughts was now thick and painful and awkward.

 

David chose to break it as sporadically as he’d turned to Max. "What's on your mind, Max? Is something bothering you?"

 

Max fidgeted with his hands, glaring at them in his lap. "I didn't come here to tell you my fucking life story, David.”

 

David held back a warning about Max’s language, knowing it wouldn’t help anyone. He kept his gaze on his camper, however.

 

“What?” Max asked.

 

“Do you remember Parents’ Day?” David asked, the same tone from that day reappearing as he spoke. Max shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

 

"Well, then you remember how I told you that you deserve to be happy. You shouldn’t hide your feelings, or pretend you’re okay if you’re not.” David spoke slowly.

 

“Yeah.” Max shrugged again.

 

“You know, no one here is against you.” David kept staring at him, and Max shifted. “You don’t have to pretend you’re above getting help.”

 

Max pulled his hood up, shrugging for a final time. He decided that coming here was a mistake. Of course David would try to figure him out. Why couldn’t Gwen have opened the door? Where even was she?

 

He heard more than saw David frown (because he had to be upset. Because Max had to fuck up that bad.) He heard his counselor stand slowly, and before Max fully processed what was happening, David was kneeling in front of him.

 

“It’s okay to not be okay,” The man said, soft (like Mr. Honeynuts).

 

When Max didn’t respond, David stood again. “Well, it probably doesn’t help a wandering mind to be stuck inside.”

 

The counselor held a hand out to Max, offering to help him up. Max shoved it away, sliding off the couch himself. "What?"

 

David walked toward the door, turning off the light as he went. The only light streaming into the cabin now came from the moon. In the safety of the dark, Max made eye contact with David again. His eyes were just as sad as Max expected, but he still sent Max a smile under his concern.

 

Max forced a glare onto his face. “What the fuck are you doing?”

 

David held the door open for his camper. "Trust me."

 

Max shrugged, figuring if he was killed tonight his fears couldn’t come to pass. The longer he followed David outside of the cabin, the more he doubted he was about to die. In fact, the mood was almost identical to when he’d walked to the cabin. The trees still swayed in the wind, their dance nearing its end as the night did. The lake was still working on its first course—Spooky Island sticking out of the glassy water like a sore thumb.

 

David looked over each of the tents with a small smile. Max figured he was thinking about each camper, and how perfect they seemed when the lights were out. But he didn’t comment, keeping his gaze on the slowly approaching lake.

 

“You know, back when I was a camper, I used to sneak out here at night,” David said matter-of-factly, back in that annoying-camp-counselor tone Max would deny missing. He sat on a log that Max hadn’t noticed before.

 

Max sat beside him, noticing how the stars reflected on the lake’s surface as they got closer. “So?”

 

“I thought it’d help.” David shrugged. “I still come here to sit when I'm feeling stressed"

 

Max rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. I don't think you could function without this camp."

 

Silence fell over the pair again. Max tried to keep his mind from drifting, staring at the lake— _that he wouldn’t be seeing after this summer._ At Spooky Island— _filled with things he didn’t want to think about ever again._ The tents— _all the friends he was leaving behind._

 

“You’re probably right,” David laughed to himself, distracting Max from his thoughts for a second. Max almost thought they were going to slip back into the painful silence again when David asked: “Hey, Max?”

 

"What?"

 

"Are you okay?”

 

_Was he okay?_ Max wondered how such a standard question could feel so probing. He wondered how to even answer. _Was he okay?_

 

“Just peachy, David,” Max grumbled finally, the words feeling foreign in his mouth.

 

“Really? Because it’s actually kind of concerning that you can’t sleep. Sleep is really important. Is it insomnia? You did have some sleeping pills for that, right? Gwen might have some if you ran out. Wait, do you use children’s sleeping pills?” David thought about it for a second. “Do you think it has something to do with all the coffee you drink?”

 

Max stood suddenly. “I don’t fucking know, David. I’m just a kid. Okay? I don’t know the answer to everything!”

 

David stared at Max for a second, and he tried not to cringe at his overreaction.

 

“Sorry that I overwhelmed you, Max,” David apologized, shocking the boy. “You’re right, it’s not your job to have all the answers.”

 

Max shrugged. “It’s whatever. I overreacted.”

 

"Remember what I told you earlier,” David warned. “Pretending that you’re okay isn’t always helpful.”

 

Max stared out at the star-filled lake. It looked like a black hole, ready to swallow the whole camp. Max wished it would. He’d heard Space Kid say a black hole would tear you apart. That sounded fantastic to Max at that moment.

 

Then again, he would do anything not to talk about his feelings.

 

"Would…” Max sighed, collecting himself. “Would you miss me if I didn't come back to camp next year?"

 

David sat up quickly. "Of course I would, Max. I’d miss any of my campers, you’re all irreplaceable."

 

Max sat beside David again, slow and stiff. “Is that just something you say to all the kids?”

 

“Why would I do that?” David tried to give Max a genuine look, but Max kept his gaze on the ground now.

 

Max shrugged. “I was kind of hoping you did.”

 

“W—?”

 

"What if they pick me up and don’t let me come back? What if they don't come at all, and just leave me here?" Max stood again, starting to pace. "I’ve been on the streets before because of their bullshit, I’m not doing it again, David!"

 

David gasped. "Max, y—"

 

“Shut up, David. Shut the fuck up,” Max inhaled deeply, trying to steady his frustrated breathing. “Don’t try to give me any of your stupid bullshit!”

 

David’s eyes locked on Max, who kept pacing to challenge the man, going back into his monologue. “They're assholes—pieces of apathetic shit! They sent me here to get rid of me, even though they knew it was a scam—and don’t fight me on that, David, this place is _meant to be_ a scam. And I knew that this place would suck as much as all the other stupid summer camps I’ve been banned from.

 

“Or, I thought it would suck. But then I got here and I didn’t get kicked out. And people actually started to give a shit whether I lived or died. And—fuck—I don't care that my parents are fucking terrible people… I just want them to be there when it’s time to leave so I can come back here.”

 

Max held back his tears as long as he could but by the end of his rant, he felt like he could drown in them. He felt himself shaking, and his breathing quicken. He felt David’s gentle arms around him and felt him speaking just as softly as before. _Soft like Mr. Honeynuts._

 

And, before long, he could hear David again too.

 

"You don't deserve any of this.” The man said first, followed by. “Your parents might not care, but we do. I care. It’s going to be okay.”

 

He continued to rub circles on Max’s back, and speak softly until Max pushed himself out of David’s arms. Which was only a few seconds after David realized he was a little more focused—still shaky and wiping tears between breaths, but focused.

 

"I'm so proud of you for opening up Max,” David said sincerely, “I promise, if your parents don't show up at the end of camp, I won’t stop working until we’re sure you have a suitable place to stay. Because I care about you, Max.”

 

David offered his arms again, and Max only rolled his eyes a little before accepting the hug. Max held in the tears this time but held onto David until they didn’t feel like coming back.  David didn’t seem to mind. Max figured he would stay forever if he had to.

 

And Max was glad that he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Bother me on tumblr. 
> 
> w3dn3sd4y.tumblr.com (not my main)


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